“Hungry?” he asked as they exited the house.
She locked up and wound her scarf tighter. “What kind of question is that? My appetites haven’t changed.”
He clamped his lips shut against the groan that almost escaped. Images of their kisses, and her lithe body next to his, obscured the present like the snow did his windshield.
“It’s starting.” He opened the car door for her.
“What?” A snowflake landed on her cheek then melted.
He wiped at the spot with his thumb. “The snow.”
“Maybe we should stay in?” She leaned toward him.
“Thought you’re hungry?”
“I have some leftovers from the café. We could share.”
It wasn’t the romantic evening he’d planned, but Nora was inviting him in. And she wasn’t keen on driving in snowstorms—her dad had been killed in one the year before when he’d been travelling.
“Back inside, then.”
She nodded. He gripped her hands in his and helped her into the house again. No skin-on-skin contact, yet, with them all bundled up for the weather. But as soon as she closed and locked the door, they peeled off those outer layers. He made sure to help her with her coat this time, breathing in her scent that held the slightly spicy sweetness of Ibarra hot chocolate and the cactus flowers that used to bloom in the desert surrounding Delgado Ranch.
Nora hurried into the kitchen. Cutler followed at a slow pace. Some things didn’t change. She was upset, maybe even about to cry, so she’d hurried away from him, not wanting to show her difficult emotions. Not wanting to ask for comfort.
Already, she spread out some bread and cheeses and heated stew in the microwave. Plates, silverware, and napkins followed in neat settings on the kitchen table.
“Thanks,” he said, watching her as she rooted around in a cabinet, munching on something.
He grabbed a bite of bread and brie and ate. Turning, she slid wine glasses and a bottle on the island.
Chewing another bite, she motioned to the wine, as if in silent questioning. He nodded. She poured them each a glass. He leaned toward her and grasped her free hand as she raised her glass. Clinking his against hers, he spoke, “To you, Nora, for all you’ve been to me, and all we could be together again. May you let me be here for you.”
Glancing at him for the briefest moment, her eyes pooling with unshed tears, she swallowed some wine. He did as well. She pulled her hand away.
She served up the beef stew and sat, eating quickly.
“In a hurry? Is Ana coming home soon?” He’d found out that her younger sister was spending the weekend with Mrs. Gallagher, who owned the local café. And who’d encouraged him to pursue Nora. He’d resisted the older woman’s suggestions, but after a month seeing Nora around town, he couldn’t deny that he felt as much in love with her as ever.
“I promised you dinner, that’s all. No need to prolong it.”
“Right. Let’s save the slow savoring for a different sort of meal.” He raised his brows.
Good, she blushed in response and shifted in her seat. Then she rolled her eyes, but he’d seen that she still was attracted to him, possibly still needed him as much as he needed her. He just needed the chance to prove it.
“Do you have to be so full of yourself?” She shook her head.
“No, I’d rather be full with you.”
“If all you can do is spill ridiculous innuendo, then this ‘date’ is over.”
She set down her glass and crossed her arms.
“It’s not all I can do, and you know it.” He edged his chair closer to her.
“Don’t you come any closer, Cutler Manning.” She shook her head again, her hair coming loose. Soon, he’d have her loosening her hold on her resistance.
Chapter Three
Why could he still affect her this way? She tried to hold in the flow of feelings, but crossing her arms wasn’t any more effective in that than the years of denying how she felt about him, and that she’d made a huge mistake in telling him to leave when they were teens. Just his smoldering stare made her feel as undone as always, like he could see right through her and hold her pain, hold all of her in his strong embrace.
She’d been so silly to agree to this. Especially to go out on a night like this, so close to the anniversary of her dad’s death, and on the very night she and Cutler had gotten engaged all those years ago. She should’ve taken Aunt Connie up on her offer to visit.
Too late. She noticed his arms as he leaned against the table. To be in his arms again. She licked her lips with a quick flick of her tongue.
“I want to be close to you.” He smiled, that grin he got before he used to sidle up to her and whisper sweet words to her. No one had done that since he had. It was too intimate, and she hadn’t dated very many men since Cutler.
She rose. “I think we should clean up.” She took her plate to the sink.
He strode to her. “I think we should kiss.”
She gripped the plate then set it in the plastic tub. Turning, she faced Cutler.
“I thought you said I’d have to suggest anything more.”
“You can say no.” He stood still, but his gaze told her of his feelings: affection and attraction.
Maybe if they kissed, she’d see all this was just a memory, not what was happening now. That she was just projecting her former feelings into the present.
“I say yes.” Steeling herself for a quick, passionate kiss, she rooted herself in place. But he strolled to her and stood in front of her, gazing down at her, his breath hot on her forehead. His warmth made her feel too melty and soft, an ice cream about to puddle on the floor.
With agonizing slowness, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. His lips teased her hair, a promise of what could be. And that was all this would be: a kiss. That was all. She closed her eyes, images of Cutler on one knee filling her vision. No, that wasn’t what she wanted. She’d broken their engagement once and she wouldn’t go through that again.
Cupping her chin with his strong fingers, he tilted her head up. She flickered open her eyes and met his gaze. His brown eyes held a depth and tenderness that she had thought she’d made up before. And there was more: caring, questioning...and, yes, love. A tenderness of her own wove among the sparks zinging through her torso.
Then his lips brushed hers, and she returned the pressure, the tender exploration. Relentless now, his kisses branded her, leaving a fiery imprint, reawakening all they’d shared, every emotion and shred of caring she’d thought she’d locked in the past. They were hungry for each other; now was the feast after years of famine. She giggled, for the first time in years, at the joy of their closeness.
His firm touch loosened something in her, that impulsive girl he’d teased her for being on that same night twelve years ago, when they’d promised themselves to each other.
Her breathing came in ragged gusts. He pressed his forehead to hers. “God, Nora,” he said reverently, a prayer, an invocation. “I’m going to worship every inch of you, never let you go.” Planting kisses along her nose, her throat, her collarbone, he moved closer still, until they were pressed together.
“Cutler,” she murmured as she wound her hands through his thick hair. The pain of the years without him, the yearning for him, welled and centered in an aching need in her heart.
“Nora, sweetheart,” he answered in that same low, longing tone.
Her breathing calmed as he held her tight against his solid chest. Her heart scattered again, but she was too deep in the feel of him to do anything about it. His hands roamed over her back, more gently than she’d ever remembered him being. And it ignited her again, the flare of a match, like those Cutler had used to light a small fire out in the desert on cold nights. He knew how to tend flames, taking care they stayed contained, keeping her warm and safe.
He pressed his forehead into hers again, caressing her arms with his calloused fingers.
“Nora, I’m going to prove to you how
good we are. To show you that you’re my everything, and I won’t let you go. Are you willing?”
She kissed his cheek, his skin warm and rough with stubble, like he’d been when he’d worked at her father’s ranch. She was dangerously close to loving him, completely, wholeheartedly, in that moment.
“I don’t know.” She really didn’t. Love was so scary, and she’d lost too many loved ones already.
“I’ll take that.”
“You should’ve taken me out.” She turned and got his bowl, put it in the sink, then started washing up.
He appeared next to her. Opening the dishwasher, he waited near her, then took the first plate from her. They worked silently for a few minutes. And those few minutes were uncomfortable, because they were so comfortable. It was as if the years had melted away, and they were back in her family kitchen where they used to share dish duty during that year that he and his brother had lived on her father’s ranch. Papá and Mr. Manning had been friends, and Papá had offered to have Cutler and Dean work the ranch, and learn some of the dry farming and grazing techniques he used. Mr. Manning was happy, too, as his oldest son and three youngest sons were enough help without Cutler and Dean there, and too much trouble. Like Cutler had turned out to be.
“We could still go out, if you like.”
“This was your idea. Just so the charity gets the money, I don’t care.”
She met his gaze with what she hoped was a challenge. But, instead, he seemed to look into her truth.
“You care. You’re the most caring person I know.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I do.”
How many times had she imagined them both saying that, to each other, at the church back home? But now there was no parent to give her away, no family home to have the reception in, and she and Ana were hundreds of miles from home, here in Cutler’s territory. What had she been thinking?
She smirked. “As full of yourself as ever.”
“Just full of love for you.”
She dried her hands and walked past him, hoping he didn’t see the color rising in her cheeks. They burned so much she knew the embarrassment would show even through her tanned skin.
“Prove it.” She rubbed her mouth, not believing she’d just said that. “Sorry, I—”
“No, I get it. You lost your dad. I know how important he was to you, and what grief can do to a person.” He reached for her but stopped himself. “If you’re giving me any opening, I’m going to take it. I can’t prove it, but I can be here. The rest you’ll have to take on faith.”
She said a prayer: Help me, Lord. Cutler knew her pain. He’d lost both his parents, just as she had. Right then she wanted to let the tears out, wanted Cutler to hold her and tell her all those sweet words again, and she wanted to believe him. But, how could she? She couldn’t manage staying whole if Cutler left her again. It wasn’t a risk she could take. Was it? Was her faith in herself, in their love, strong enough?
“Why? Why did you stay away?” Her voice choked with the unshed tears. She cleared her throat, pretending it was just a momentary hiccup.
“I was young and stupid. I believed what you said in your letter, that you didn’t want to see me again. I thought you deserved better. So I set out to make myself better. I should’ve told you, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave if I did. I’m so sorry for leaving, for not being there for you. When I saw you here... At first, I thought I could let you get to know me on your own time, show me you’d changed your mind. But after a month, I knew I had to try again.”
How could she do better than the man she loved, the man who’d always held her heart? She shook her head. “I’m sorry too. I let myself think I knew best. We were young.” She sagged with the weight of her grief. “I needed you. Not a better you. Just you.”
“I can’t undo it. Tell me what I can do.”
As if she knew anymore. She’d known back then. Back when the heaviness of being the woman in the family after Mamá’s death had weighed on her for years. Back when she’d thought she had to save everyone from doing something foolish. And then she’d done the most foolish thing of all: fallen in love with Cutler Manning. She couldn’t let go of that love any more than she seemed to be able to let go of her losses. The love and pain were knitted together in an ugly pattern, a worn gift that she couldn’t throw away.
He touched a strand of her hair. She turned from him and tucked it back into her low chignon.
“You can be a good brother to Dean, and a good brother-in-law to Maya, if they decide to get married. You can support our bakery while you’re in town. You can... You can hold me.” The last words came out in a whisper. He’d leave town again, leave her like he had before. But in this moment, she could have comfort.
His silence made her turn to him, but she was careful to keep some distance between them. His brows tugged together, but his expression was otherwise neutral.
“I can hold you, if that’s what you need.”
She nodded. She was letting herself be vulnerable with him. She ached with the possibility and the pain.
Chapter Four
The way she held herself, drooping and despairing, cut into him. He hung his head and swallowed, hard. “Elenora, lo siento. I’m so sorry. How could I have left you to deal with everything yourself? How could I not have been there for you all those years, and when your dad died last year?” He shook his head at himself.
When he mustered his courage and looked at her again, his chest constricted. Silent, fat tears streamed down her cheeks. He’d never seen her cry before. Shaking off his own misgivings and regrets and selfish desires, he strode to her and enclosed her in his arms. He walked her to the sofa and sat down with her, not loosening his hold on her as her shoulders shook with her quiet weeping.
“I’m here, I’m here.” He didn’t know what else to say. This wasn’t the moment for declarations or distractions, and he wasn’t sure he could promise everything would be okay. From what he understood, her world had been turned upside down for at least the second time in her life. That was a lot for not even thirty.
Her breathing grew calmer, and she sank into his chest. The constriction he’d felt dissipated as she leaned into him, trusting him with her grief. It was something that she was allowing him to be here with her, hold her in her sorrow. Even if that was all that could happen between them, he would make it enough. She meant everything, even if he would end up being nothing to her.
She sniffled and hunched in on herself, drawing a handkerchief from her pocket. Practical Nora—he loved that about her too. She folded it in a square, as neat and precise as she tried to be. But life was messy. She knew that, but tried to hide the mess.
With a snort-chuckle, or something that sounded like she was trying to laugh off her tears, she glanced at him. He tried to give a reassuring smile, at which she really did laugh.
“Okay,” she said, “guess you’re freaked out now. You don’t have to stay.”
“What?” He raised his eyebrows. “You think a few tears fluster me?”
“If the look on your face was any indication...”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Don’t start with clichés, Mr. Manning.”
“Right, I forgot you’re the cliché police.”
“Grammar and clichés. I see a lot of infractions.” Her slump lifted slightly.
He almost touched her arm, but thought better of it. Her mood was shifting, and he didn’t want to jeopardize that. This was about her. “What’s the punishment?”
“I do have some quizzes...”
He put up his hands in mock surrender. “I’d rather pay another thousand to your charity.”
“All right.”
She wasn’t teasing now, and he was fine with that. If it made her happy, he’d donate all his money in her name, though he’d rather share it with her, like he should’ve been all along, as her husband.
“It’s a deal. Now, about dessert—”
“No
way.” She scooted back.
He held in his smile at her assumption, though part of him quailed at the thought that she was so reluctant to be near him if she wasn’t in the midst of a cry. “I meant, does Maya have any experiments left over?”
“Experiments?”
“Dean told me she likes to try new recipes, or tweak flavors. I thought with the bakery opening coming up, she might’ve been on overdrive.”
Her cheeks colored again, a red like those of the cactus flowers that bloomed only in the darkness. She was beautiful. He prayed that she would be okay, and maybe he threw in a selfish plea. Hopefully the Man upstairs would forgive him.
“Oh, yeah.” She rose slowly and walked to the kitchen.
He followed, his limbs seeming to act on their own, or his feeling brain was working ahead of his thinking. He just wanted to be near her.
“She’s been supplying Gallagher’s Café with some special desserts. She left a few cupcakes.” Nora pulled out a glass container and opened the lid.
Inside sat a few swirl-top cupcakes, one in pink and white with a tiny heart, one in some kind of caramel-looking drizzle, and one chocolate with a red glittery heart.
“Looks good. Will you join me?”
“Only if there’s coffee.”
“I’ll get it. Still like it black?”
“Yes, thanks.” She rubbed her arms before hugging herself and sinking into a chair at the kitchen table.
“How do the specs for the business look?” He wanted to help her feel more herself, and not so miserable. She’d been a business prodigy of sorts, and he’d learned so much from her and her father. Yet he’d repaid them by running away. He tightened his hands then eased as he focused on the task at hand. There was no going back, only forward. He hoped to spend the rest of his life making it up to Nora, if she’d let him.
“Good. It’s a bit of a risk, being in such a small town, but response has been positive to the products at Gallagher’s. Maya’s developed a beginning customer base. And with the small business loan, and my investment, we should be able to make a go of it. The projections are solid. Of course, there’s always the unknown.”
Sweet Valentine Page 2